


Awakening

by Feriku



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, BDSM, Fluff, M/M, Masochism, Non-Explicit, Sadism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:03:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feriku/pseuds/Feriku
Summary: When Wylan accidentally sees Jesper's sadistic side, he awakens to desires he didn't know he had.(More of the fluffiest BDSM ever.)





	Awakening

_"Go find Jesper, and if that idiot is gambling again, drag him back here by force if you have to.”_

With that less-than-friendly explanation, Kaz had sent Wylan out alone after Jesper, not that Wylan had any idea how he could compel Jesper to return against his will if it came to that—or how to find him, for that matter.

But after asking around at Jesper’s usual haunts and following a trail through the Barrel thanks to people who had seen him, Wylan had finally found him.

And he definitely wasn’t gambling.

Jesper was with a girl Wylan didn’t know. He’d never seen her before, didn’t know if she was a friend of Jesper’s or just someone he’d met for the night. One brief glimpse through the window as Wylan was about to knock was enough for him to see neither of them was wearing any clothing.

Wylan crouched by the side of the building, conflicted. His cheeks burned with embarrassment from the accidental glimpse. All that smooth dark skin and those lean muscles—while he’d never say it out loud to Jesper and inflate his ego even further, he really was gorgeous.

Along with embarrassment, Wylan couldn’t help but feel a prickle of annoyance. There was no reason to be annoyed. It wasn’t like Jesper made any secret of his… experience. Or like Wylan thought any of his flirtation toward him was serious. Or like he _wanted_ it to be serious, no, he would be just as happy if the lanky sharpshooter stopped bothering him.

Still, it rankled him a little to find Jesper spending his evening that way.

Because it presented him with a problem. Yes, that was the only reason. If Wylan interrupted them, he’d embarrass himself further and Jesper would be annoyed on top of that. If he left them and went back, Kaz would be furious. His only option was to wait until they finished and then talk to Jesper, preferably pretending he’d arrived after everything was over.

The murmur of voices inside the room made him wonder if he should go a short distance away, just far enough so he could still observe the building without being able to hear what they were doing. A sharp moan made heat rise to his cheeks, and he jumped up. Yes, he was definitely getting out of there.

But he took another glance inside the room— _not_ because he hoped to get another look at Jesper’s lean body, definitely not, and why in the world hadn’t they drawn the curtain or at least made sure they weren’t in sight of the window—and froze.

The girl had lain down on her stomach, with Jesper poised above her, but he wasn’t doing any of the things Wylan expected. Instead, he was holding a whip and stroked the tip down her back and sides as she squirmed.

A strange tension built up in Wylan. Fear? Anticipation? He wasn’t sure. The sharpshooter seemed like a good person, so why would he—

Jesper brought the whip cracking down against her bare skin once, twice, three times. Her cries made Wylan flinch back in surprise, but he couldn’t tear himself away despite knowing he should stop watching.

“Color?” Jesper asked.

“Green.”

That exchange made no sense at all to Wylan, but it appeared to be the… wrong answer? The right answer? Jesper whipped her again in response, and she cried out, a hint of pleasure in her cry along with the pain.

Whatever they were doing, it didn’t seem as bad as it first looked. The anxiety Wylan felt upon first seeing someone from their group whipping someone shifted into curiosity. Jesper’s companion made no attempts to get away from him, and she didn’t look like a prisoner. She lay there, trembling, and waited for his next move.

Did it feel… good?

Being whipped would hurt, obviously—but what would it feel like to lie there like she was, letting Jesper tease him with that whip and then lash it across his skin?

Wylan watched, transfixed, as their game continued. Jesper hurt her; she accepted it and asked for more. She strained toward him as he tormented her, and Wylan couldn’t shake the sudden thought that this all made sense to them, that Jesper knew what she could handle and she wanted what he gave her. It left him with an aching need to understand.

Wylan knew pain. He knew it as punishment, as “encouragement” to read, as something to fear and dread and hide from. He’d never imagined it as something that could be desired.

But watching Jesper, part of him wished he was the one in there instead of that girl.

He abruptly remembered where he was, that he was crouched in a dirty alleyway spying through a window at someone he ostensibly respected. Wylan retreated at last to give them their privacy and wait for them to finish. But he couldn’t stop wondering about what he’d seen.

Wondering… and wanting.

#

Wylan didn’t tell Jesper that night that he’d spied on him. He merely watched until the sharpshooter and his companion parted ways, both with contented smiles, then slipped out and caught up to him as if he’d just arrived.

He never mentioned it when the other boy flirted with him, although he did think about it. Did Jesper do that with boys? Was that what he thought of when he teased?

Then, one day, it was just the two of them alone in the hideout, all the others gone away for various reasons. Wylan was aware of how close Jesper sat beside him, of how his own thoughts strayed to that night whenever he so much as looked at the other boy, and of how fiercely he burned to understand what he’d seen.

Wylan took a deep breath. “I have a confession.”

“Uh-oh, this sounds serious.” Despite the joke, Jesper looked a little worried. “What’s up?”

“Do you remember a time… um, before the Ice Court… when I came to get you after you were out at night?”

Jesper stared at him. “Maybe? Believe it or not, merchling, I don’t memorize _every_ second we’re together.” He winked.

Wylan blushed.

“What about it?”

“Well, I…” He cleared his throat. “You were with a girl that night.”

Jesper smirked. “Jealous?”

Wylan decided not to answer that question.  “The thing is, I… spied on you two.”

“Wait, our innocent, pure Wylan Van Sunshine is a _voyeur_?”

He blushed scarlet and shook his head, although he couldn’t completely deny that he’d watched for longer than he should have, transfixed by Jesper and his own fascination. “No! It’s not like that! It’s just that… you were whipping her.”

Jesper’s eyes widened slightly. “I know that probably looked strange to you, merchling, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Wylan had already guessed as much from the way the two acted, but it still felt good to hear it directly from Jesper. “Tell me about it,” he said, in a tone he hoped sounded like casual curiosity instead of  _please do that to me._

“She was a masochist. I guess you’d call me a sadist. She wants pain, I like to inflict pain. Everyone goes home happy.”

_Masochist. Sadist._ Wylan turned the words over in his mind with a particular thrill. He’d heard them before, but never in this context, never with this meaning. If anyone had asked him if Jesper was a sadist, he’d have laughed, because Jesper was too kind and gentle to want to hurt someone. That was before he’d ever considered that someone might want to be hurt.

“Merchling,” Jesper said, his uncertainty clear in his tone, “you’re not… afraid of me because of what you saw, are you?”

Wylan smiled and shook his head. “No. I could tell she was enjoying it too.”

“How long _were_ you watching?”

He blushed. “Just… just a little bit.”

“Wishing someone would do that to you?” Jesper asked with a teasing smirk.

Oh yes. But Wylan didn’t know what would happen if he admitted as much to Jesper. He wasn’t even sure what he _wanted_ to happen. Instead, he said, “So there are boy masochists, too?”

 The sharpshooter let out a startled laugh. “Of course. Anyone can be pretty much anything, merchling. Some people even go back and forth.”

Then Wylan could have it. Someone could do that to him. He drew a sharp breath. Yes, he couldn’t deny it anymore. The memories that lurked in the back of his mind ever since that night weren’t born out of confusion, but desire. His whole body trembled at the idea of being teased and hurt by someone while making love—and his imagination made that someone a tall, handsome Zemeni boy.

“And that,” Jesper said with a smirk and an affectionate tousling of Wylan’s hair, “was your sex education for the day. I live to take away your innocence.”

Wylan grinned back at him, ridiculously happy. There was a name for what he wanted. There was a word for people like him, and his wild fantasies could come true someday.

He just wondered if there was a chance for Jesper to be the one doing it.

#

Wylan didn’t tell Jesper what had made him so desperate for answers, too afraid the other boy would reject him.

He didn’t talk about it as they faced death, as they fought alongside each other, as they destroyed Wylan’s father. He didn’t ask about it when he kissed Jesper at last after wanting him for so long, or when Jesper promised to stay with him.

But soon he found himself alone with Jesper in the mansion that now belonged to him. During his “down payment,” Wylan had realized part of him had secretly hoped Jesper would bust out the whips and other diabolical devices.

He wanted that. He _needed_ that. He didn’t understand why he would crave pain from someone he loved, but Jesper understood it, and he would be able to fulfill it.

Yet Jesper hadn’t so much as hinted at the idea in the few days since he’d moved in.

Wylan took a deep breath. Right. He was just going to have to bring it up himself.

As he stood in the bedroom and wondered exactly how to broach the subject, Jesper entered the room behind him. He wrapped his arms around Wylan and pressed close against him. “So,” he murmured, his breath a ticklish gust against Wylan’s ear, “when’s the next installment of my payment?”

Wylan squirmed, but leaned back into the embrace. Jesper was warm and solid, like an anchor keeping away all of Wylan’s fears. He felt so alive when they were together—alive and wanted and safe.

And brave enough to confess his desires.

“Merchling?”

Wylan turned around to face him, still secure within the circle of Jesper’s arms. “So you want that next installment soon?”

“Only if you do, merchling.”

Always. Always. “On one condition.”

Jesper grinned. “What condition is that?”

Wylan blushed furiously, but met Jesper’s gaze. “Do you still have that whip?”

**Author's Note:**

> I had a really rough few days here, and my cat had to be put down. I ended up writing this because fluffy wesper fanfics bring me comfort. I feel like there should be a second chapter, but I don't know if I'll ever write one, so for now at least I'm going to mark it as a completed story and let you imagine what comes next.


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